Grand Rapids Herald-Review Newspaper, July 20, 1901, Page 8

CHAPTER I. Forewarned—Forearmed. “Is my brother at home?” “Yes, madam,” answered the well- Pred servant who had admitted the @peaker: and, after showing her into the drawing room, now stood awaiting her orders. “Say that I would be glad to see him immediately.” Again the servant replied: “Yes, madam,” and with a respectful bow, left the room. With an impatient sigh, Mrs. Martin gank into one of the deep, soft, velvety erm chairs, but was apparently in no mood to enjoy its ease and luxury, for @he beat time to thoughts that were evidently unpleasant on the thick car- pet, and then drummed with her gloved fingers on the arm of the chair. As the minutes passed she grew more fmpatient, and half-muttered her thoughts aloud: “To think that this upstart girl {is to de mistress of this mansion—of these fegal apartments—of his boundless Wealth! Oh, I shall choke with rage! But it shall not be—never, never, nev~ i! Not, at least, if I have any of the power I once possessed over this head- | @trong brother of mine!” Starting to her feet. she walked cross the room and paused in front of ene of the long mirrors that reached from the ceiling to the floor, reflecting | mot only her own still youthful and ele- gant figure, but half the magnificent furniture of the apartment besides, and @he could not fail to see that her ap- pearance, though giving evidence of no uch wealth, was yet quite in harmony | with her surroundings. She was handsome, blonde, blue-eyed, | -with a resolute mouth and chin, a cold, calculating smile that was extremely fascinating, however, for it showed teeth like pearls between lips brighter ‘than the reddest rose, and a profusion ef glittering golden hair. Her attire was largely made up of! ~@atin and velvet, but her jewels—too | mumerous for good taste—were not ot | the first quality: the lace trimmings ‘on her dress were imitation; the tulle weil drawn across her fluffy hair and ver her face to conceal the pearl pow- @er and the faint touch of rouge, was of ; @ cheap quality. | In short, her appearance and costume | betrayed a subtle lack of style and of | that substitute for style—money—which ‘would have been evident at a glance to @ practiced eye. It was sufficiently evident to herself, | nd a frown speedily replaced the smile | with which she had at first greeted her | wn reflection. “T must wear second-rate satin and | velvet,” she thought, “with imitation Jace and jewels, while she will be robed | 4m priceless brocades, cashmeres from India and Persia, laces fit for a queen, sand jewels worthy to sparkle on 2! princess for her plebian neck and arms. But it serves me right—fool that I was! | I would take love in a cottage—and where is it now? I have neither the love, for which I gave all else, nor the golid comforts that might help me to, @o without it. Fool—fool! And only | myself to blame for it!” Bitter tears of rage and mortification #tarted to her eyes, and, with an impa- tent gesture, she turned contemptu- eusly from the glass to find herself In | the presence of her brother, who had Just entered the room. He approached with outstretched fsand and greeted her cordially. “ah, my dear Kate! It is always a pleasure to see you!” “I hope you will think ft as much a pleasure when you know my errand j here, Philip,” returned his sister, tak- | fmg his hand with an earnestness that might easily pass for warmth. ®he apporached her former chair and sank into it again, while Mr. Grayson took a seat close beside her, looking at her with a half-amused, half-question- ing smile. “You know of old, Phil,” pursued the Wedy, “that I never beat about the bush | when I have anything to say or do.” “I have always admired your decis- fon of character, my dear Kate, even when I could not quite agree with the e@ourse you have pursued. You know gust what you want, and go for it with @ directness not characteristic of your @ox.” “Perhaps this is the reason I so sel- @om get it,” was the bitter rejoinder. “However, that’s not to the purpose. Character cannot be changed, and I act according to mine—and, as usual, I @hall come to the point at once. Is it true, as I hear, that you are going to ry Clarice Mowbray?” “Tt is quite true, as you seem to have heard, that I have proposed to her, and | equally true that I mean to marry her | ff she will have me.” “ah, then she hasn’t promised yet?” asked Mrs. Martin, with a slight sigh | of relief. | “No; but her parents have both said ‘yes,’ and there is little doubt—at least, I hope so—that I shall finally obtain | Clare's consent.” i And, with pardonable vanity, Mr. Grayson looked into the gleaming, pol- fshed mirror over the mantlepiece in front of him. He was a handsome, dark, almost for- eign-looking man, and although of mid- le age as to years, his clear eyes had all the brilliancy of youth, there was | not a thread of silver in his hair, and his figure was erect, lithe and almost | slender. He smiled, for he knew that there ‘was not one out of every ten girls in the set in which he moved who would mot accept with joy an offer of mar- riage from ‘him. “You smile, Philip, and you have a right to,” Mrs. Martin said. “Few girls would refuse you, I know, but Clarice is one of the few, I think. You must ware that she doesn’t love you?” Al Fatal. harriage. uD WRITTEN BY ELIZABETH CAMPBELL. Gaed “Is that necessary?” asked Mr. Gray- son, with a slight sneer. “If she asked your advice, for example, couldn't you tell her of many things that make ex- cellent substitutes for that schoolgirl sentiment?” Mrs. Martin flushed with hot and bit- ter resentment, for.she knew the sneer was directed against her own ill-starred and sentimental union, which had brought her nothing but misery and a half-dozen children, who were wholly dependent upon their uncle, Philip Grayson, for support. “Perhaps I could, Philip,” she said, looking him steadily in the face. “And yet you must have some lingering be- lief in the same‘schoolgirl sentiment,’ as you call it, or why do you wish to marry Clarice Mowbray? She is poor as a church mouse, and she has neither the prestige of good family or social po- sition to bring you as a dower.” “Ah, that’t another thing!” exclaimed Mr. Grayson, his dark face lighting up with youthful enthusiasm. “I love her, of course, but it is with the passion of a strong man’s heart, not with the flimsy sentiment of a school girl’s fan- ey.” “Ah, Philip, beware of that school girl's fancy!” exclaimed Mrs. Martin, as she caught her brother’s hand with- in both her own; and, looking earnest- ly into his face, she continued, with a touch of such genuine feeling as almost startled him: “The strength of such fancies depends on the heart where they have birth; and, in Clare’s case, be sure the fancy will be eternal. Her hero's brow is crowned with the halo of death; if he had faults, she will never learn them; and she will love Shirley Austin, or her memory of him, to the warned you, Philip!” “And forewarned is forearmed, as you knew, Kate.” returned Mr. Gray- son, with more lightness than his feel- last day of her life. Remember, I have Ings warranted. With proud gayety, he continued: “I am a fair rival for the ghosts of several dead men, my dear sister; and if I can but gain this girl for my wife —yourtg, lovely, and scarcely yet alive to the true feelings of her own heart—I will undertake to win her love for a liv- ing husband, even against the memory of a dead lover.” “ ‘As the deaf adder that stoppeth her ear!’ exclaimed Kate Martin, passion- ‘ately. I might have known it. Show me a man in love, and I will look upon an idiot, I care not what his general in- telligence may be. But there’s another point, Philip. Have you ever thought of it? It has not been absolutely proved that Shirley Austin is dead. Suppose he turns up after you have married Clarice?” “T should prefer to have him reap- pear after I have married Clarice rath. er than before!” laughed Mr. Grayson, with easy indifference. “Why, Philip, he would kill you!” Mr. Grayson pressed the tips of his slender white fingers together, glanced with a meditative smile down at his polished boots, so small and well-fitting, and then said: “Til take the risk, my dear Kate.” Mrs. Martin began to lose her tem- per. “And that other risk of marrying 2 girl in love with a rival who is not dead--are you ready to take that risk, also, brother Philip?” she asked, angri- ly. “Quite ready, Sister Kate,” and a dark flush glowed in Mr. Grayson’s cheek. “Philip Grayson will know how to take care of his wife, be his rival living or dead.” “I see it is useless to talk further on | this subject, then.” “Quite useless,” returned Mr. Gray- son also rising, “always premising that Clarice will marry me, and I am going to learn my fate this morning. And now, let us talk of something else—how is Robert?” “As crazy as ever on the one subject, though sane enough in ordinary ways, but a great care to me always, Philip.” “Poor old fellow!—our only brother, Kate, and once almost a father to us. It is very sad. And, as you say, Kate, he must be a great care to you. But I am always willing to do my part to- ward sharing that care.” ‘As he spoke, Mr.-Grayson took from his pocket a folded check, which he placed in his sister’s hand. Mrs. Martin opened it at once, and an exclamation of pleasure escaped her, for it was a munificent sum. “Five thousand dollars, Philip! And this is extra, beyond the usual allow- ance?” “Certainly, dear.” “You are, indeed, generous, Philip.” And, for the moment, Mrs. Martin was really grateful. She said so, with a degree of warmth that touched her brother, who loved her in his way, ana remembered her as the fair-haired, im- perious, beautiful child-sister, oftener than he thought of her as the hard, cold woman of the world. He stooped and pressed his lips to her cheek, and she answered with a smile that had often been called irresistible. “And now, good-bye, impatient lov- er. I will detain you no longer; for I read in your face you wish to fly to Clarice and learn your fate. Take cour- age, Philip; there is little doubt but you will win; you were surely born under a lucky star!” Mr. Grayson stood musing some mo- ‘ments after his sister left him. “Born under a lucky star,’” he re- peated. “I have often thought so; but there is such a thing as change of luck. Strange, but every speculation I have touched since I saw Clarice has brought me a loss. Should I call it good or bad luck if I lose her, too? Pshaw! Kate has made me superstitious. Let me but gain Clarice, I care not what else I lose! I. am in love—fathoms deep in love—and I don’t care who knows it!” And, softly whistling “Love's Young Dream,” ip Grayson forgot his for- ty years, and bounded up stairs to change his coat and put on street at- tire, with a step as buoyant as any young gentleman of twenty-five. ( CHAPTER I. im A Wicked Woman. . Once out of his house, the spasm of gratitude toward her brother, which had for a moment subdued Kate Mar- tin, vanished as quickly as it had come. With a quick revulsion of feeling, she muttered, bitterly: “I have lost all the power over him I once possessed. For weeks—yes, for months past—I have felt that it was so, but I never dreamed that there was an- other woman’s influence working against mine, till I heard this rumor about Clarice Mowbray. He's over head and ears in love with the girl—ab- solutely submerged! Well, well, true enough—no fool like an old fool! There is but one hope, perhaps the girl won’t marry him; but that’s a slender chance. She's one of the dutiful kind, and the parents won't let such a catch as Gray- son, the millionaire, slip through their fingers. Then, Philip has some hold over the father, and he’ll use his pow- er. May all ill-luck fall on her! She comes between me and wealth—bound- less wealth—such as I have longed for, schemed for, prayed for all my life! How can I prevent’it? What plan can I hit upon to break off this marriage?” “Oh, if Shirley Austin could but re- turn, or if I could in some way suggest to Clare Mowbray a reasonable doubt of his death! That, at least, I can do. I will call there this very day. But, no, it is too late now, for Philip is already with her. But I will write—yes, an an- onymous letter. She will never marry him while she thinks Austin alive. And in the meantime, who knows what may happen? Philip may die—I wish he would die before he marries Clarice Mowbray, or makes a will in her favor, for then all he possesses would come to me, as next of kin. Poor Robert does not count, for I can wind him round my finger!” ° Walking rapidly and thinking so in- tently that she pursued her way home as one walking in her sleep, Mrs. Mar- tin turned sharply into a side Street, and saw before her, going in the same direction, a familiar figure which she presently recognized. Her pace moderated, and she proceed- ed more leisurely. Her gaze fastened itself, with a cruel, calculating intent- ness, on that bent, slow-moving, sad figure. A horrible thought flashed into her mind—a thought so horrible that at first she shuddered and grew cold; then her eyes suddenly emitted a wicked, steel- like glitter. She set her thin, cold lips together, and muttered below her breath words she would have feared even her own ears to hear. She quickened her pace, and for a few minutes walked so rapidly that she was soon alongside of the figure she had recognized; and then’she slipped her hand gently through the old man’s arm, and said, in low, caressing tones: “Why, brother Robert. How glad 1 am to see you out in the glad, bright sunshine!” With a slight start Robert Grayson turned, and, recognizing his sister, smiled affectionately and patted the hand that rested on his arm. Robert was very pale and slender. His tall figure was bent, but it was with the weight of some great grief— not with years, for he was only ten years older than Philip. His hair was worn long, and, being white as snow, gave him a patriarchial appearance, for the habitual expréssion of his face was gentle and sad. His pale, blue eyes had a vacant look --something far away, as of a person who did not live in the present, but in some remote though sad memories—a past that, at times, however, brought with it the shadow of unspeakable mis-~ ery. “Have you walked far, dear?” Mrs. Martin asked of her brother. “No—I scarcely know how far, but I don’t think I have been out more than an hour. I have*rambled about just for the sake of enjoying the sunshine. Have you been shopping?” “Yes, for a while; then I went to call on brother Philip.” Robert Grayson started violently; @ dark flush mantled his pale face, and his mild blue eyes flashed. He drew himself up, standing still and erect, and made an effort to with- draw his arm from his sister, but she only leaned more heavily on it, while she pressed her hand, with a firm, reassuring touch, on his. ‘Forgive me for Speaking a name 80 hard for you to hear, Robert,” she said, in her sweetest and gentlest tone; “but I had business with Philip to-day, which I think it my duty to tell you about.” “The villain, the villain!” muttered Robert Grayson. “Ah, Katie, I ought to have killed him when I had the power! Such chances do not come twice in life!” : Wicked as she was, monstrous as was the thought which had grown now to be a fixed purpose in her mind, Mrs. Martin shuddered while she listened to these words spoken by her elder broth- er—spoken with the calm deliberation of madness, for Robert Grayson was @ dangerous monomaniac, and this terri- ble woman knew it. Mrs. Martin considered a moment or two before speaking her next words; the even beating of her heart quickened a trifle, and she breathed hurriedly. Then, as if nerving herself, she went on, in a low, intense voices: “Robert, our brother Philip has de- termined at last, after all these years, to—marry!” Even as she spoke, and though they were in the public street, Mrs. Martin vlaced her hand on Robert's lips while she uttered the last word; and by that action she only half-stifled the cry he uttered. “Robert,” she continued, “if you utter a word—a sound—I will tell you noth- ing more.” With a great effort the man con- trolled himself, for she possessed over him the power a keeper possesses over the mad patient-in his charge. He spoke in submissive tones. “I am dumb, Katie; at least until we are within doors.” ‘ Mrs. Martin pressed his hand and smiled reassuringly, and the brother and sister proceeded in silence toward their home, still some distance further on. Mrs. Martin was careful not to speak again on-any subject, and though her brother occasionally uttered some wild PR: and kept steadily on her way. But Katé Martin's mind was busy enough, although she kept silence. Dur- ing those. few minutes her thoughts speedily reviewed the sad and tragic story of her brother Robert's life. The events which had made-him the wreck he was had happened all of twenty vears before, and Kate was about fifteen at the time; but she re- membered each circumstance vividly. Robert Grayson had passionately loved a beautiful young girl who had been placed in his charge as ward until she should come of age or marry; and there had been a time when he had thought himself justified in believing ‘that Leonora Kent loved him in return. Always a shy and sensitive man, he was slow in bringing himself to a post- tive declaration of his love; but he felt assured that she understood and even encouraged it. She lived in the household as one of the family, for his mother was then alive and his young sister was at home; and Mrs. Grayson and Kate had shared his thought in regard to Miss Kent’s feelings toward him. But all doubt and all hope on the subject came to a vio- lent end, Philip Grayson came home from col- lege. Leonora saw and adored him, but he was coldly indifferent to the passion she took no pains to conceal. That Philip not only cared nothing for the girl, but was even bored and annoyed by her loving looks and tender sight, was evident to every one except Robert. Morbildy jealous, he chose to believe that his brother had wilfully won the girl away from him, only to trifle with her and amuse himself with her hope- less attachment. Philip’s protestations and denials were alike useless. Robert was firm in his opinion, and finally per- suaded Leonora to the same way of thinking. The bitter anguish of an unrequited attachment, combined with mortifica- tion at being, as she believed, slighted and laughed at, was more than the vain and over-sensitive girl could bear. It broke her heart, and one day she was found lying dead in her room, 2 scrap of paper crushed in her cold hand, on which was scrawled a last farewell to Philip Grayson. After her death it was shown that she had left every dollar of her little fortune to the man she had so reckless- ly and hopelessly loved. And on that fumble foundation Philip had reared the colossal wealth of which he was now the envied possessor. Robert Grayson brooded over his bitter disappointment, and the young grri's sad death until his reason became af- fected, and his unfounded fancy that Philip had wantonly won and ther thrown away the heart of Leonora Kent, became a fixed delusion. Finally, acute mania was developed, and for several years the unfortunate gentle- man was the inmate of a lunatic asy- lum. At the end of fifteen years he was discharged cured; but in less than six months is became evident that he was in every other way, his delusions re- garding Leonora and Philip were worse than before. He did not believe that she was dead now, having conceivéd a fancy that she still lived, but was, in some terrible way, in Philip’s power, who refused to marry her, although pledged to do so, and well aware that it was the only means of restoring her to happiness and the esteem of her friends. Of course Philip Grayson saw the ne- cessity of having his brother once more placed under proper restraint; but he now found himself opposed in this in- tention by his sister. Mrs. Martin, who had recently been left a widow, declared that she could not endure the grief and shame of hav- ing her brother again incarcerated in an insane asylum, especially as he was quite sane except on the one subject, while in every other way he was docile as a child and wholly under her influ- ence. This matter was finally arranged by Philip making his sister a handsome al- lowance for the support of herself and family, with a separate sum for the ex- penses of Robert. The united sums gave her such an in- come as she had never before possessed —and for two or three years Mrs. Mar- tin was almost content. At the end of that time, her brother’s fortune still increasing, and her own income becowing smaller in compari- son with greater expenses, she became discontented, wished for more, often asked for extra sums, and always got them. Finally her ambitious desire fixed tt- self on Philip’s entire fortune for her- self and children; for, like other feline creatures, this cold and cruel woman was 4 devoted mother. The more her thoughts @welt upon the subject, the more certain she felt that she and her children ought to be and were to be Philip Grayson’s heirs. She was right, too, for Philip had al- ready made a will in favor of his sister and her family; and it is more than probable that the will would have re- mained unchanged to the day of his death had he not fallen in love and de- termined to take a wife. It was this reflection which added the last touch of bitterness to Mrs. Mar- tin’s feelings; for she had ferreted out the facts about the will, and knew how the greater part of his property had been devised previous to the unlucky hour when Philip saw and loved Clar- ice Mowbray. “But he shall never marry her—nev- er!” she declared to herself again and again. ‘And once more, as they reached the comfortable home which she owed to his generosity, she registered a mental vow that Philip Grayson should die, if necessary, rather than marry Clarice, or any one else. “Now—Katie—naw!” whispered Rob- ert Grayson, wildly, speaking the mo- ment they entered the house. “Tell me everything!” Looking at him and noticing his ex-. cited gestures and eyes half-starting from their sockets, Mrs. Martin saw that she must obey him; and she did, telling him everything, so far as she knew it herself, concerning Philip, Clar- ice, and the old lover, Shirley Austin; and every word that she spoke was cal- culated to further inflame her unfor- tunate brother's mind, already willdly excited. Precisely what she intended she scarcely knew as yet. The horrible thought that had taken possession of ne a hopeless monomaniac. Quite rational } she affected not to hear them, | her were still ‘confused in her own mind, but the intention, by fair means or foul, to prevent Philip Grayson’s marriage was fixed and unalterable. While he listened to his sister’s well-. chosen and crafty words, Robert Gray- son walked up and down the room, clasping and wringing his hands, mut- tering and exclaiming, and giving ev- ery sign of the wildest excitement. ~ There was apparently one idea be- yond all others that Mrs. Martin wished to impress upon her drother’s mind. She said these words many times: “Better a thousand times that Philip were dead, than, after all that has passed, he should.marry any one but Leonora Kent.” “Yes, yes; better, better—ten thou- sand times better!” Robert assented, eagerly and wildly, while a dark flush overspread his face, and his appearance became every instant more frenzied. Kate Martin watched him with a calm, cruel smile. “There!” she exclaimed, when Rob- ert at last left the room. “I think I have laid the train and furnished the fire that will light ft. May it burn and destroy all that stands between me and the wealth I have so long coveted and planned for!” Late in the afternoon Robert Grayson returned from a brief expedition to @ neighboring street, and his sister saw in his possession a small vial filled with a dark fluid and labeled, “Laudanum— Poison.” She observed it with surprise, won- dering where he had got it and how it was to be used. “Ig that how he means to do it?” she thought, with a shudder. “Hum-m! ‘Well, it may not be easy; but if I un- derstand Robert Grayson, Philip's chances for a long life were never SO slender as they are this day.” (To Be Continued.) Trick of the Lawyer's Trade. The average layman, who may attend any of the more conspicuous trials in the civil or criminal courts is usually amused at first by the wrangles and tilts of opposing counsel, but in the end he becomes borei, and wonders what is the point of all this furious recrim- ination. Some light was shed om the matter the other day by @ prominent criminal lawyer. who said: “[ never engage in any of these con troversies without an object. When I have a witness who is going along swimmingly and keeping nis head, I never mix it up with my opponent, and when my witness begins to get rattled, under cross-examination, for instance, I am pretty apt to interject a remark that will bring a retort from my learned friend on the other side. One word leads to another, and in a jiffy we are at fit, hammer and tongs, until the court stops us. Meanwhile, my object is accomplished, My witness’ mind is diverted, he gets a chance to recover himself, and if I happen to have the better of the argument, he feels reas- sured and his confidence is restored.”— New York Sun. ——_—__——- The Opal Superstition. ‘There is one superstition of wide range and influence that is directed against one of the most beautiful ob- jects in nature, the opal. A man in my town failed in business, and what do you think he did? Took his. opal ring into the yard and smashed it to pieces with a hammer! He did that in the Nineteenth century! He ascribed his bankruptcy to that opal, and he intended neither to suffer such misfor- tune again nor to allow any other one to do so by inheriting or buying that ill-starred property. One of the most amusing instances of a trust in the wrong things is re- ported from New York, where a man took an opal to a jeweler and asked him to sell it, as he had had nothing but bad luck since he owned it, his pusiness ventures having failed, his children having suffered illness, and the Old Scratch having been to pay generally. The jeweler found the gem to be an imitation. Its falsity must have been obvious to everybody except the victim, because the opal is the only stone that has hever been passably im- itated.—Lippincott. Nero’s Drinking Water. In view of the repeated warnings by the doctors in regard to boiling water used for drinking or cooking purposes, it is interesting to note that Cyrus the Great had all his drinking water boiled and carried to him im silver vessels. | Even Nero (according to Pliny the Elder) strictly observed this preeau- tion. against disease, and ordered that the water should be iced by placing it | in glass flasks and then packing ft in snow. Even at this late day one can- not but wonder whether the world might not have been better off if the microbes had been allowed to flourish without let or hindrance fm the water served to the famous tyrant of Rome. ee Coogan’s Hurry. James J. Coogna, de facto president of the borough of Manhattan, recently applied to a Harlem horse dealer to purchase a trotter. The dealer brought out a handsome bay horse. “pn guarantee the animal to go in three minutes, easy,” said the dealer. Coogan understood the dealer to mean that the horse could go a mile fn three minutes, and drove the animal up to the Speedway to try him. “I found he was a slow plug and could not trot,” said the friend of Cro- ker, in telling the story. “I drove back to the stable. “ ‘Here, you!’ I said to the dealer, ‘you told me this horse could go in three minutes! It took him four by the watch.’ “Well, you must have been in a h— of a hurry if you couldn't wait a min- ute,” the dealer replied. Coogan did not buy the horse.—New York Sun. eS An Improvement. “There are those who hold that man’s privileges in his club are exactly of the same character as those of his own house.” “T hold they are greater. Your wife can’t talk back at you at your club.”— Town and Country. SEN Da ree ESS Fatal Complexion. “7 see they hanged, a negro in Kan- sas the other day.” “Yes; a man’s complexion ts still fatal in some quart: Ohio State Journal. We ‘ vc a eta ie Capital - Gossip One of the good men whose services will be lost to the state through the operation of the board of control sys- tem is W. H. Knapp, steward and financial manager of the hospital for the insane in Rochester. Mr. Knapp, when his present office expires by law on Aug. 1, will become treasurer and assistant to the manager of the Roch- ester Woolen Manufacturing company. Rarely has a public official made a better record than Mr. Knapp has tn the eleven years during which he has served the hospital. In that time the hospital farm has grown from 430 te 1,400 acres and many ‘buildings have been added, besides extensive repairs and remodelings of old ones, the cost amounting to $275,000. The general ex- penditures during Mr. Knapp’s term of office have exceeded $2,000,000. His good management is shown by the faet that while in 1899 ft cost $171 per capita to support the hospital, it cost but $143 last year, or $2.75 a week. This is said to be lower than the expenses at any other similar institution in the country. This reduction in cost has not been wrought at the expense of the comfort or welfare of the patients, there having, in fact, been a distinct betterment im these respects. The other attaches of the hospital ex- ceedingly regret the necessity of part- ing with Mr. Knapp and fear that the new regime will not do so well as he did. He will have a very good position with a growing business institution which new has more than 100 employes: es Acting State Entomologist E. B. Forbes, of the state experimental sta- tion, has issued a circular to the farm- ers of the state concerning the best methods of getting rid of chinch bugs. He.advises a return to the old devices employed by our forefathers, and says that the more recent plan of distribut- ing disease spores among the bugs is not altogether reliable. Such was also the opinion of the late Prof. Luger. Wet weather is essential to the efficacy of the disease method and even then the bugs frequently fail to: be carried off by the plague intended for them: Prof. Forbes suggests that the farm- ers plow furrows around their infested fields. The dirt of the furrows should be thoroughly pulverized and heaped up in a ridge and post holes bored at frequent intervals along the edge of the ridge of dirt. When the bugs atterfpt to leave the grain fields to go to: the corn they will become discouraged by the crumbling dirt as they try to climb the ridge. They will go back and walk along the furrow until they fall into one of the post holes, where they may be destroyed by kerosene or hot water. The furrow method is: not satisfac- tory in wet weather, and at such times a stream of coal tar should be poured’ along the ground in front of the post holes. The bugs. will not cross the tar and will collect im large numbers in the post holes. If they have already suc- ceeded in getting to the corn fields they may be killed by spraying the corn with an emulsion of soap and: kerosene: Viscogen is the latest miitk adulterant discovered by the inspectors of the state dairy and food department. For some time the department kept getting samples of milk apparently far above the legal standard, which, on being tested, was found to be far below. This: }cause was a mystery until, by a shrewd piece of detective work, the reason was discovered and a sample of viscogen was obtained. The stuff is a syrup composed of su- gar, lime and water, about the color of | water, and is used’ chiefly to make the milk appear richer than it really Ts When viscogen is placed’ in milk or” cream the lactic acid turns the lime im \the fluid into a white thick substance; i which, assimilating with the milk, gives: it an appearance and taste of great richness. It is possible through its use ;to palm off upon customers miik and cream which is far below standard. | While viscogen is not injurious to \health its use is fraudulent and will be stopped by the dairy and food depart- ment. Viscogen is so little known that the practice among dairymem is very limited. ee The state board of health has de- cided to call a conference of the locat health officers of the state te formulate plans for concerted action ia stamping out smallpox in Minnesota. The mat- ter was referred to the executive com- mittee with power to act. It is expect- ed that the conference will be held in St. Paul during the state fair. The rural health officers will be instructed concerning the duties they owe to the rest of the state as well as to their own districts, and ft is hoped that the result o the conference will be the eradication of smallpox. Secretary Bracken in his report says: “The disease is entirely too general in the country districts, and we often find that the local health officers have neglected or even refused to take prop- er steps to prevent its spread, Al- though it is an unpleasant duty, it wilt be necessary to prosecute some of the health offictals in order to impress upon them their responsibilities. I have at present taken steps to bring to punish- ment the officials of five different loca? boards.” No Reom For Doubt. . “You speak with great positivencss about the sincerity of your friend’s re- ligion.” “There can be no doubt whatever of its sincerity,” the answer. “Why, sir, that man would rather go to church on Sunday than play golf.’—Washing- 5 Bad | } ) ei | mee